


A Soup for Sore Eyes

by demishock



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Ignoct Week, M/M, Post-Altissia, ignoctweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 17:01:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11673342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demishock/pseuds/demishock
Summary: Ignis always told him carrots were good for his eyes.Noctis is determined to do all he can to help Ignis's.





	A Soup for Sore Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for ignoctweek on tumblr. Day 2 prompt: "Noctis Cooks."
> 
> Wrote this entire thing today on 2 hours of sleep; if there are errors it's because I was in a hurry to get it done by the deadline. Please feel free to point out any glaring/distracting errors and I'll update as needed. XD;
> 
> Thanks to Arianne for the last-minute title idea!

Noctis had teased Ignis a lot when they were kids.

He hadn’t meant anything by it, really; Ignis just made for an easy target, since he was always so serious. Mostly he’d been trying to get Ignis to crack a smile once in a while. Sometimes it even worked.

One of his primary sources of ammunition was Ignis’s glasses. Noctis never commented about how he looked – it wasn't that kind of teasing. Instead, he’d often used Ignis’s less-than-perfect vision as an excuse not to eat his carrots.

_“Please, Noct; they’re good for your eyes.”_

_“Nuh-uh. You eat them all the time and you’ve still got glasses!”_

This was usually punctuated by him sticking his tongue out and scraping the vile things onto Ignis’s plate, on the grounds that Ignis clearly needed them more than he did.

It was a habit that'd stuck with him all the way into adulthood, much to Ignis's chagrin and Noctis's own entertainment.

Noctis found that the whole thing was a lot less amusing after Leviathan.

\---

Maagho was a mess. That was the first thing Noctis noticed as he staggered into the space. The gondolas weren’t running at the moment, so he’d been forced to point-warp from across the canal, and the damage hadn't been as apparent from that distance. Now, standing in the midst of it, he could see there was broken glass strewn all over the floor. The barrels that had once served as dining tables were all in disarray, many of them smashed apart. The bar, at least, appeared mostly intact. Noctis wandered over to it in a daze and sat down heavily on one of the few upright stools, burying his head in his arms.

Now that he was here, his original plan seemed stupid. Childish, even.

He’d needed to leave the Leville. He’d been cooped up there for over a week, and while he knew his friends meant well, the way they kept checking up on him was making him feel smothered, and pathetic, and useless.

No, that wasn't fair. It wasn’t their fault. It was just… too much. Everything that had happened since they left the Crown City felt like a long, horrible nightmare that Noctis couldn’t seem to wake up from. A nightmare that kept getting worse and worse the further it went on.

He'd screwed up, big time.

The last straw had been when Ignis had come to collect Noctis's laundry, as though it was any other day. The way he kept acting like nothing had happened, trying to downplay his injury and refusing to rest, had driven Noctis out the hotel doors.

He couldn't take much more of this.

And so, Noctis had come to Maagho hoping to find… well, it didn’t matter now. He could tell by how trashed the restaurant was that he probably wasn’t going to be able to do what he’d originally intended.

"Prince Noctis! What an unexpected surprise.”

Noctis leapt from his seat as though it had burned him, spinning around and summoning a polearm.

It fell from his hands the moment he saw who had spoken, fragmenting into crystal shards as it returned to the Armiger.

Noctis stared at Weskham, horrified.

“Easy, there,” Weskham said, his voice calm. He approached Noctis and gently but firmly laid a hand on his shoulder, guiding him back to the barstool and helping him to sit. While he circled back around the bar, Noctis tried to remember how to breathe, balling his hands into fists on the countertop.

“Can I get you anything, lad? I admit, there isn’t much to choose from at the moment, but I’ll do my best to accommodate.”

Noctis eyed him warily. Weskham didn't seem the least bit bothered that Noctis had nearly run him through a mere moment ago, nor that he'd showed up to the wreckage of his restaurant uninvited. Quite the contrary - he seemed pleased by his presence.

When Noctis neglected to answer his question, Weskham began to putter about behind the bar, setting things to rights.

"It truly is a relief to see you up and about," he said as he worked. "You gave us all quite a fright, being unconscious for as long as you were."

Noctis didn't have a good response for that, either. He watched Weskham, trying to get a read on this man who'd been his father's steward, once upon a time. Weskham had made it quite clear that he'd been around when Noctis was a baby, at least, but Noctis had no memories of him. He'd simply been too young. He didn't know what had happened to land Weskham here in Altissia, and he wasn't about to pry.

"If you plan to stay with us, though, I suggest we fill that picky belly of yours. You'll do yourself no favors by not eating during your recovery."

He sounded exactly like Ignis in saying so, and it reminded Noctis of why he'd come here in the first place.

Maybe…

"I… wanted to try and make something," he said with difficulty. "To take back to the hotel."

Weskham straightened from where he'd been sorting through a crate beside the bar and put his hands on his hips.

"What did you have in mind?"

That was the problem. Noctis didn't have much of anything in mind, except…

“…Carrots,” Noctis said, his voice so small he could barely hear himself.

Weskham leveled him with a look that reminded Noctis of his father. It made his heart thud painfully in his chest.

“An unusual request, I must admit,” Weskham mused, tilting his head to one side. “We're more widely known for our seafood.”

Noctis felt like a fool. He knew this had been a bad idea. Face hot, he moved to stand, but Weskham held up a placating hand.

“Peace, Highness,” Weskham said. “I apologize for making light of the matter. I’ll see what I can turn up." He chuckled to himself as he turned around. "‘Turnip.’”

There it was once more - that similarity to Ignis. Noctis normally would have laughed at the pun, but right now, he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to laugh at anything ever again.

Weskham moved to the back corner of the restaurant, where a number of crates and barrels were stacked up beneath a tarp - the remains of his inventory, Noctis realized. He must have come by sometime in the last few days to see what was salvageable.

Noctis remained at the bar, staring at the wooden countertop without really seeing it. When Weskham returned, it was with a small basket full of carrots.

“Here we are, by royal request,” Weskham said, placing the basket in front of Noctis with a flourish. “Will this be enough to suit your purposes?”

Noctis didn't know. His hesitation must have been clear on his face, because Weskham’s expression softened.

“Would this happen to be for the Scientia lad?"

Noctis was stunned.

"How did you…?"

Weskham gave him a nostalgic little smile.

"Oh, I remember him from when he was small, same as you. The two of you were always thick as thieves. Never left your side, that one. Never will, I'll wager."

Noctis's throat felt tight.

"I want…"

Noctis swallowed, hard. Tried again.

"I don't…"

He couldn't get the words out.

Weskham didn't seem to need them. He reached below the counter and withdrew a pair of knives. Giving one a little flip, he held it out to Noctis, handle-first.

"Let's start with the basics, shall we?"

Under Weskham's expert eye, Noctis set to peeling and chopping the carrots. When he'd finished those, Weskham produced an onion, some garlic, and a bit of ginger. Noctis cut these as well. He was no stranger to prep work, at least - it was the actual cooking part that he'd never been able to get the hang of.

While he worked away at the task he'd been given, Weskham went spelunking below the bar again, resurfacing with a large pot and a can of soup stock. At Noctis's bewildered look, Weskham just smiled.

"Trust me," was all he said.

Noctis found that he did.

Weskham poured oil into the pot and put it onto the stove as Noctis finished chopping. At Weskham's instruction, he scooped first the onion, then the rest, into the pot, added some salt and pepper, and stirred. After a few minutes, Weskham handed him the stock, which Noctis poured over everything. Then Weskham covered the pot and turned the heat down.

"Now we wait while the magic happens," he said, smiling.

Noctis waited in silence, while Weskham returned to his tidying of the restaurant. Noctis knew he should try to help, but he couldn't bring himself to move. He figured he'd probably just get in the way.

He'd nearly dozed off on the counter when Weskham gave his shoulder a shake.

"Nearly there, now," Weskham said, motioning toward the stove. Noctis removed the lid, and was surprised at the strong scent.

With Weskham's help, Noctis carefully scooped the pot's contents into a blender, churning them until they formed a thick puree.

"And there you have it," Weskham said with a note of pride. "Carrot and ginger soup."

Noctis squinted dubiously at the orange concoction.

"Want to try it?"

He shook his head.

"More's the pity," Weskham said with a sigh.

He poured the soup into a tureen and placed it onto a tray along with a ladle, four bowls, and four spoons.

"Your dinner set, to go," Weskham said, handing the tray over.

Once it was secure in Noctis's grasp, he turned and motioned for Noctis to follow him.

"Right this way, please."

Weskham led him to a small motorboat tied up at the dock.

"It's not as classic as the gondolas, but it'll get the job done," he said in response to Noctis's obvious surprise.

He helped him aboard, and soon enough, Noctis found himself standing in front of the Leville. He turned to look over his shoulder as Weskham prepared the boat to depart once more.

"Hey, um…" he said, sheepishly. "Thanks. Thanks a lot."

Weskham smiled.

"Anything for Regis's boy," he said fondly. "You take care, and you know where to find me, should you need anything else."

"You bet," Noctis said softly as Weskham started up the motor again.

Noctis inhaled deeply and entered the hotel. The staff were quick to offer to relieve him of his tray, but he held onto it protectively and managed to deter them, hurrying up the stairs as fast as he dared. He had to prop the tray against the wall in order to free a hand to open the door, but otherwise made it to the royal suite without incident.

Ignis was alone on the couch, and his head tilted as he heard Noctis enter. Noctis's breath hitched, giving him away.

"Welcome back," Ignis greeted. Then he frowned. "What smells like ginger?"

"I uh… brought back dinner," Noctis said. "It's just some soup, but…"

"Soup sounds wonderful. Thank you, Noct."

Noctis set down the tray and served up a bowl of it for Ignis, placing it into his waiting hands.

He turned toward the bedroom.

"Join me?"

The question wasn't entirely unexpected, but Noctis's heart still ached to hear it.

"All right," he agreed, sinking into one of the chairs. He kicked off his boots, drawing his knees up to his chest.

"You should try to eat some as well," Ignis said with his usual no-nonsense tone. "Ginger's hardly a vegetable; you've had it before."

"I'm good, Specs," Noctis said, unmoving.

Ignis left it at that. He contemplated the bowl and spoon in his hands for a moment. Noctis saw a flicker of frustration cross his newly scarred face, and then he set the spoon down, opting instead to lift the bowl directly to his lips.

Noctis felt his eyes prickling with tears. It was so unlike Ignis not to stand on ceremony, even when they were alone. It tore Noctis to shreds inside. Blinking rapidly, he stared at a spot on the floor and waited for Ignis's verdict.

It was several moments before Ignis spoke, and when he did, he sounded a bit breathless.

"This is tremendous," Ignis said, his voice warm with approval. "Where in the world did you pick it up?"

Noctis's stomach fluttered. Ignis's bowl was empty - he'd drank the whole thing in one go.

"I went to Maagho."

"Is that right? I shall have to pay Weskham a visit and give him my thanks."

"Don't worry; I thanked him," Noctis murmured. He tightened his grip around his legs. He wanted to bolt from the room.

Ignis licked his lips, and Noctis could tell by his expression that he was trying to figure out what all it was composed of, as was his habit.

Noctis held his breath and watched the realization dawn.

"Carrots," Ignis said softly. He turned, sightless eyes seeking Noctis out beside him. "Oh, Noct…"

The sob tore its way out of his throat before he could swallow it back down, and he pressed his forehead to his knees, unable to take any more.

He heard a sharp clatter as Ignis hurriedly set down his soup bowl, and then Ignis's arms were around him and Noctis was crying and he couldn't stop. He twisted in the chair, dragging them both to the floor where he buried his face against Ignis's chest, seeking his heartbeat. He shook in Ignis's arms, hating himself for not being able to keep it together, for needing Ignis to comfort him when it should have been the other way around.

Ignis held him until he'd cried himself out. Completely spent, but feeling horribly self-conscious, Noctis untangled himself and helped Ignis to his feet. He scrubbed his eyes with the hem of his t-shirt and sniffled.

"Listen, Specs, I'm--"

"Did you make it yourself?"

The question threw Noctis off balance.

"I… what?"

"The soup. The carrot soup. Did you make it yourself?"

Noctis shifted uncertainly from one foot to the other.

"Weskham had to tell me what to do, but yeah, I guess…"

Ignis reached for him, found his shoulder, and squeezed.

For the first time since this waking nightmare began, Noctis felt like he'd done something right.


End file.
